let the world just fade away
by tombombadillo
Summary: A baby, the Hamptons and some misplaced ice cream.


**For Amy. Happy Birthday, my dear. I said it was Fluff McFluff from Flufftown, Flufftania, so Fluff McFluff from Flufftown Flufftania you have got.**

* * *

_Hello happiness,_

_Tell me where you've been_

_I missed the sound of your voice_

_I missed the touch of your skin_

_It's no secret, I'm not who I used to be_

_Anyone can see_

_You're the difference in me_

* * *

It's the look on Emily's face. Tiny features, wide in shock, tiny mouth open in a tiny o, and then there's a high pitched shriek of joy, followed by a high peel of laughter. Her tiny little feet kick the water, sending up spray into the bright summer sky, palms opening and closing against her father's arms as he holds her up. It's been almost a year since their little girl arrived and although her hormones have more or less calmed down, there are times just like this when Kate gets a little choked up. Her family. Her daughter, her husband. They're all here. There's been times when she thought nothing was going to work, when Castle and herself where always going to be a horrible mess of a car crash, and when they found out about Emily, oh she was so terrified that she was going to be hopeless at it all. And of course, Castle manages to dispel all of her fears with words and touches and no small amount of love. So much love. She can feel it pouring it out of him all of the time, a constant aura that wraps around them all, a shield against the wrong in the world. And here, their home in the Hamptons, their own private section of beach and the soft summer wind that's blowing in from the Atlantic, it's so peaceful. More or less cut off from civilisation, a place where they can just _be_. There's no phone calls in the middle of the night heralding a dead body, there isn't the seemingly ever-present ex-wife clambering for the next draft of a book, no publicist arranging book tours up and down the country. She knows they have to go back to the city one day. And probably soon. Work is calling, and family too. Castle has meetings to get back to. They've been out here a month, two months? Just needing to get away from the city and it's constant stream of people. They wanted relaxation and to be able to step out of the door without being bombarded with questions and cameras.

Castle's walking over to her, Emily a happy giggling ball of bathing suit in his arms and she can't help but grin at him. Both of them. She soon divests Castle of their daughter, holds her close. She smells of sun block, the whiff of coconut mixing in with the sand and the ocean, almost overpowering the still present baby smell, but not quite. Castle, on the other hand, still smells like the ginger and lemongrass shower gel, even with the sun cream and the beach. He switches it up when they're here. When they're in the city, he smells like cinnamon and leather and sandalwood, something that just suits the tall cloud topping buildings and crowded sidewalks of New York. But when they're here, surrounded by wide open spaces and barely another person for at least half a mile, he says he likes to match. Fresh. He smells like fresh air and sea breezes, and she loves it. She loves him.

* * *

They have ice cream with their dinner and Emily manages to get more of it around her mouth than actually in it. Castle, of course, is mighty amused by the mess she's made, tries to get her to write her name in what's been spilt on the high chair like she was their own version of Matilda. All Emily does is slam her hand into the mess and then smear it in her hair. And she acts like this is some mega magic achievement. And of course, Castle completely encourages her to the point of using his melted ice cream as war paint. She tuts at him, _really, Castle?_ and almost gets annoyed when he reaches across the table and draws two stripes on each of her cheeks. The only reason she doesn't get pissed off at him is that he promises to lick it off later, and really, if he wants to lick ice cream off… she's not going to complain. She does make him give Emily a bath, leaves them splashing around with toy submarines and bubbles and stands under the sinfully wonderful power shower in the en-suite bathroom. It washes off the sand and the salt, leaves her feeling all relaxed and soft and sappy inside. She steps out in a swirl of cherry scented steam and finds Castle and Emily waiting for her. Emily is dry and happy and wrapped up in her tortoise pyjamas, very almost asleep as she lays on top of their bed, fist stuffed in her mouth. She's never been one for pacifiers. Castle is soaking wet, his hair and shirt dripping ever so slowly on the floor. She throws a clean shirt at him as she roots through the drawers for some clean clothes.

* * *

She loves him maybe a bit more when they have put Emily to bed, she was out like a light, slow eyes blinking up at them from the cot and then suddenly they were closed to the world, her breathing soft and only slightly snuffly. And then he leads her downstairs to the porch. He's somehow managed to find time to light a million and one candles, scattered randomly on the wooden floor, lined up like sentries on the railing. Over on the horizon, the last remnants of the sun are dipping down below the horizon, colouring the sky a brilliant rainbow of colours. No matter how many times she's seen this, it constantly takes her breath away. Just the sheer expanse of it. Nothing in between them and what seems like _everything_. Everything is on the other side of that large expanse of water, if she could just cross it. Not that she'd want to. Everything she wants, everything she needs is right here. Her daughter, upstairs and asleep and _happy_. Her husband who's right there next to her, an arm loosely banded around her waist, the other reaching for a bottle of wine.

He's a warm and welcome barrier against the brisk wind that's picked up since they came in off the beach, and even though she's changed out of her sundress and into more layers, she's welcome for the solid warmth at her back. She takes the glass Castle offers her, holds it against her chest just for a moment. A flock of birds flaps across the sky, their quiet calls echoing off the walls of the house. And then it's just the sound of the waves on the beach, a constant hiss that she's going to miss when they return to the city.

* * *

"Castle?" He hums against the skin of her shoulder, already half asleep. "Thank you."

"For what?" he mumbles in reply, lifting his head slightly to look at her over the curve of her neck.

"Making me happy. For giving me everything. For Emily, and… all of this."

"Always, Kate."

* * *

**twitter: stanapoppins**


End file.
